


Against the Dying of the Light

by magisterpavus



Series: THIHV/Vampire AU [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Angst, Korean Keith (Voltron), Mates, Multi, Polyamory, Possessive Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Keith could barely remember what it was to be human.(the epilogue for The Hurricane in His Veins.)





	Against the Dying of the Light

_Do not go gentle into that good night,_   
_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_   
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_   
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_   
_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_   
_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_   
_Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_\- Dylan Thomas_

Keith could barely remember what it was to be human.

Most of the time, he didn’t dwell on it. His human life had been, as they say, nasty, brutish, and short. He had dreaded every day at the orphanage, feared the nuns, avoided almost all of the other children, and learned to hate himself anew every time he opened a Bible.

After Adelita had died, he had found no joy in the factory, his furious grief and the terror he felt upon discovering his sickness alleviated only by Henry, though even he had brought Keith pain. It had been a life of being keenly aware that he could never have what he wanted more than anything; that he could never be truly happy, and he had accepted it with a kind of dull surrender until Shiro found him dying in that dark alleyway and changed the trajectory of his future forever.

But some days…some days Keith would lie awake wondering at what he had forgotten. Wondering at what it was to feel the world around him mundanely, simply – with no enhanced senses, no accelerated healing, no bond to his sire, and no inability to age. Wondering what it had felt like to have no fangs, no claws, no pointed ears, no glowing eyes. Even when he stood in front of a mirror looking as human as he possibly could, it didn’t feel the same. He knew that much, at least.

He’d given up trying to remember the taste of food a long time ago. He missed that. It was worth feeding off of elk blood to avoid taking human life, but there was no variety in it. All elk tasted the same, more or less. Not like humans.

Not like Lance, whose blood made Keith remember vividly, if only for a few moments, everything he had lost in his turning. Not memories, exactly, rather the sensation of being _alive_ ; because though humans lived for a short time, God, did they live – Lance was ephemeral, mortal, but he was a light that would burn as brightly as it possibly could in the short time he had to shine.

Perhaps, he mused, that was why vampires fed upon humans. To survive, yes, but also to steal back little pieces of the humanity they could get no other way.

It wasn’t stealing with Lance, though, Keith tried to tell himself. It wasn’t theft if it was freely given.

But it still felt like theft afterwards, when Keith and Shiro’s bodies ran hot, faces flushed, eyes bright and alert with new energy…while Lance lay limply on the bed, eyes half-lidded, breathing raggedly, drained. He would always smile afterwards, and stretch like a lazy cat before curling easily into their arms with a satisfied sigh, but Keith still found it unsettling how he and Shiro could take away Lance’s seemingly boundless energy so easily.

It was a power Keith had never wanted, and, he suspected, neither had Shiro. They weren’t like the Galra; they took no delight in watching the luster fade from glowing skin and shining eyes as they took their fill. They took no delight in killing their victims.

And that was why Keith was so apprehensive to turn Lance.

Lance had driven up to see them after he received the painting for Christmas. It had been a total surprise – he hadn’t contacted them beforehand, and Shiro had almost dropped the very mug Lance had given him when he caught Lance’s all too familiar scent and turned to Keith with wide eyes. That had been all the warning they got before Lance burst in through the new front door and hugged them both as tightly as he could.

And then he had said it. _I want you to give me forever._

Keith had expected it, and yet it still felt like a shock hearing Lance say it aloud. He knew full well that turning rarely happened like this; the three of them were an anomaly with their careful planning and constant communication and, most of all, Lance’s full and complete consent. Those who were turned were usually turned because they would die otherwise or because their sire wanted them to be, or both.

But Lance… _Lance_ wanted this. Said it over and over again when Shiro and Keith pressed him, unyielding in his resolve, enthusiastic in his assent. And slowly it began to sink in – Lance was going to stay with them, to join them, for the rest of their very, very long lives. They had both considered Lance their mate and a part of their pack long before, but now…now it would be real.

Lance’s mother did not know the exact details of turning and Lance elected not to tell her, which just made Keith more nervous. Lance was an optimist, which Keith supposed was a good thing because it balanced out Shiro’s nihilistic tendencies and his own blunt realism. But it also meant that Lance just would not consider the possibility that something could go wrong. That…that he might not come back. Or worse, that whatever made Lance, _Lance_ would be lost. Whereas that was all Keith could think about.

So while Shiro took Lance into his arms and the two of them smiled and chatted about what they’d missed in their time apart, Keith stood off to the side having a silent crisis. As he was prone to do.

Shiro noticed almost immediately, turning to him with a creased brow. “Keith? You’re awfully quiet, sweetheart.”

Keith shrugged and looked away. “I’m fine,” he said.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Bat boy, what’s up? You told me way back when that you _hoped_ I would let you guys turn me, what changed?” His eyes widened when Keith kept staring at the floor. “Wait, did it change? You painted that whole thing – must’ve taken, what, couple months at least – and you’re having second thoughts now?”

Keith glanced up. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he snapped.

“Keith,” Shiro said, sadly, knowing. He understood, at least to some degree. “You can talk to us.”

Keith shook his head, a lump in his throat. He didn’t think he could. This was his own problem, and he had to sort it out within his own head.

Lance frowned. “Keith, what the hell.”

Shiro turned back to him. “Lance…”

“No, seriously, Keith, what the hell? If you had an issue with doing this you should’ve said so earlier, instead of making me think it was even a possibility.” Lance folded his arms. “Is it a possibility?”

“I…don’t know. I don’t want…” Keith swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“You don’t _want_ me to turn?” Lance exclaimed.

“You’re human, and you have a choice, and it’s better if you choose to live –”

“Yeah, except guess what, I’m going to die anyway!” Lance retorted. “And it’s gonna be a slow, ugly death, Keith. I probably won’t be able to walk in, what, sixty years, maybe less? Sixty years is nothing to you guys. I’ll start losing my eyesight, and losing my hair, and maybe I’ll get cancer, and –”

“Lance, really, we are well aware of the aging process,” Shiro interrupted.

“Is _he?_ ” Lance snapped, pointing at Keith. “Why would you want that to happen to me instead of being turned, Keith? Unless it’s because you _don’t_ want me to be with you guys for eternity.”

“I don’t want to _kill you,_ ” Keith hissed.

“Then you don’t have to,” Lance said. “There are two vampires here, and Shiro’s a sire already, so if you won’t turn me with him, I don’t need both of you, just one!”

Keith flinched back. Shiro’s brow lowered. “Lance!”

Lance faltered. “Wait – no, Keith, I didn’t mean it like –”

“You’re right, you don’t need both of us,” Keith repeated dully. “I know what you meant.” He turned and started towards the door hastily, his head spinning, off-balance and panicky. Lance started forward and caught his wrist but Keith jerked away. “Don’t try to find me. I want…I need to be alone right now.”

Lance’s eyes were wide and hurt but Keith saw Shiro nod almost imperceptibly. He would keep Lance away, if only for a little while. “Keith, wait,” Lance started, but Keith was already out the door, shifting in an instant and fluttering away into the darkening sky on his small bat wings.

*

He had never flown this path before, but he had walked it so many times in the past that it was ingrained in him even from the air. The cemetery looked so strange from above – like a town of little gray houses, evenly spaced, with plain yards in front of them, some littered with flowers, others overgrown with weeds, others just bare, fresh dirt. A perfect slice of suburbia for the dead. The grave Keith landed beside was covered in wildflowers – baby blue eyes, irises, buttercups, and poppies, mostly. He had chosen them with care from the woods and planted them here over the years – Henry deserved better than store-bought bouquets that slowly shed their petals over his grave as they died, too.

Keith shifted, slowly sinking down to the ground to sit in the neatly-trimmed grass. It tickled his bare ankles and left beads of dew over his palm when he brushed his hand over the short blades, the motion calming, familiar. “Hello,” he whispered. “I miss you.”

He said that every time. He doubted he would ever stop saying it. That, too, was a ritual. Keith recalled Shiro calling the horses he’d owned so long ago “creatures of habit.” Keith supposed he was a creature of habit just like them – he had his rituals, his routines, the things he needed to keep himself grounded. But this time…this time felt different.

“Lance returned today,” he said, lifting his gaze to the grave, and the words inscribed upon it. Henry’s name was faded through the years, but Keith made sure to keep the stone clean, at least. The grave stared back at him, dark and silent. “He wants Shiro and I to turn him.”

Keith put his head in his hands and choked out a short, bitter laugh. “History does have a way of repeating itself, doesn’t it? And here I was, just a few months ago, swearing to you that I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. And now Lance would have me – us – kill him. And…and I think I’m going to do it, because he really wants that, Henry. He wants to be with us, and so do I, but…I’m such a coward, you know. Of course you know. I ran away from Shiro, back to you, and that’s why you’re dead.”

 _I’d be long-dead anyway,_ Keith imagined him saying. He couldn’t ever remember Henry’s voice, not quite, but he thought it might have been like Lance’s. Lance’s, but angrier. _You should be long-dead, too._

“I know,” Keith whispered. “I know that, Henry. I’m so sorry.”

He drew his knees up to his chest and watched the way the wind rustled through the flowers, their slim stalks swaying gently. He plucked a single flower, a tiny yellow buttercup, and held it between thumb and forefinger, twirling it. “I don’t want it to hurt,” he said. “I don’t remember if dying hurt, when Shiro killed me, but I don’t want it to hurt for Lance. I didn’t want it to hurt for you, either. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was quick. Was it quick, Henry?”

The wind sighed through the flowers, and the buttercup fluttered down to the ground as his fingers loosened. Keith sighed with it, closing his eyes and bowing his head, and began to pray.

*

He lost track of time, but he hadn’t fallen asleep – it was nighttime proper, moonlight spilling across the gravestones like a daguerreotype photograph, everything painted in shades of silver and black. He’d fallen into what Shiro called a meditative state – not uncommon for vampires, though not usually caused by prayer.

Keith didn’t pray to God anymore – he had no attachment to the God the nuns had taught him about, the wrathful and omniscient deity who let his own creations suffer to teach them lessons for the greater good. But he liked to think there was someone or something kinder who could hear him. Whoever they were, they probably didn’t like him much, since he was always dumping his worries and woes onto them, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

Keith was contemplating whether to stay a little longer or to suck it up and go back home when a soft voice said, “A vampire in a graveyard is quite the cliché, Keith.”

Keith started, whirling to his feet, fangs bared – only to see Shay standing a few headstones away, regarding him with her amber eyes and smiling gently. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you – I’ve learned to be light on my feet, especially these days.”

“A good skill to learn,” Keith agreed, relaxing and sheathing his fangs. “I was just going, anyway, I’ll leave you to do…whatever it is you do here.”

“Visit my grandmother,” Shay replied. “Nothing mystical, at least not usually. My specialty isn’t necromancy.”

“Oh,” Keith said, feeling silly. “Do…do you visit her often?”

“Not as often as you visit this grave, something tells me,” Shay said. “Who does it belong to, if I may ask?”

“His name was Henry McClain,” Keith said. “I killed him.”

“You were close to him,” Shay observed, her voice quiet.

“Yes,” Keith said. “Closest.”

She took a few steps closer, cautious, and Keith was aware that Shay was still nervous around vampires, and that it meant a lot that she would trust him enough to venture this close when they were alone – especially after what he’d just told her. He shifted to the side to give her room to look at the headstone and she shot him another small smile before peering down at it.

“This is an old grave,” she murmured. Carefully, she placed her hand atop it, and Keith waited uncertainly as Shay closed her eyes, mouth twisting. “Hmm,” she said.

“What?” Keith asked. “What is it, do you…do you feel something?”

She opened her eyes. “Henry McClain died a violent and unexpected death at the hands of someone he cared for deeply. By all accounts, his spirit should be vengeful and bitter indeed.” Keith flinched, though he already knew it was true. Shay shook her head. “But there’s nothing here, Keith. Henry is at peace – your friend forgave you a long, long time ago.”

Keith stared at her, hardly believing it. “He…he’s not angry?”

“No,” Shay said. “All I sense is a sadness, a century-old grief that has permeated this place deeply. Yours, yes, but I think there is some of his, too. He doesn’t want you to fill yourself with guilt, Keith. He isn’t upset that you’re alive, and he’s not. He just wants you to allow yourself to live and be happy.”

“But…but I…”

“Keith,” Shay said, “please believe me when I say your friend holds no grudge against you. I have felt malicious spirits, tortured souls, and this is about as far from one of those as you can get.”

Keith still hesitated, looking at the grave and trying to imagine Henry standing before him, stretching out a hand to him, saying, _It’s okay, Keith. I’m okay._ He saw Lance instead, and shivered, hunching his shoulders and digging his nails into his palms. “I believe you,” he said. “But I’m still sorry.”

“Of course you are,” Shay murmured. “There is a difference between guilt and remorse, Keith. You can feel sorry for what you did without hating yourself, and eventually, maybe you can forgive yourself just as Henry has forgiven you.” Keith was quiet and she sighed. “This is about turning Lance, isn’t it?” Keith’s head shot up. “Hunk told me. Lance texted him and Pidge as soon as he got your gift.” She smiled. “He loves you and Shiro very much, Keith.”

“But what if he doesn’t when –”

“His love for you is not conditional,” Shay said firmly. “That became true the moment he decided he wanted to spend eternity with the two of you. No matter what happens after the turning – even in the very unlikely event that it should fail – that love will not change. _He_ will not change. Allow yourself to believe that, Keith, because it’s true.”

“I want it to be,” Keith whispered. “I want it to be true, so badly.”

She reached out, and touched his shoulder, light but thoughtful. “Go home to them, Keith,” she told him. “They love you, and they miss you, and unlike the dead, they are still here with you.”

Keith nodded, biting his lip. “Thank you, Shay. I…I hope your grandmother is at peace, too.”

“She is,” Shay said with a smile. “Goodbye, goodnight, and good luck.” She walked away between the headstones, brushing her fingertips over each one as she passed.

Keith looked up towards the moon and shifted, but not before saying goodbye to Henry one last time.

*

He’d been at the cemetery for no longer than a few hours, but when he got back to the house Lance looked like he was waiting for Keith to return home from war or something, sitting on the sofa with a mug of coffee, face drawn and eyes downcast. Shiro sat beside him, holding his hand and saying something quietly which made Lance’s frown deepen before he turned to look at Keith as he walked into the parlor.

“We’re glad you’re back, Keith,” Shiro said, patting the space next to Lance. “Feeling any better?”

“Yes, actually,” Keith said, sitting down beside Lance, who looked up at him hesitantly. “I’m sorry I stormed off like that.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Lance mumbled. “One of these days I’ll stop being an insensitive ass, but today is not that day, apparently.”

“You aren’t,” Keith said, and wrapped an arm around him. Lance was stiff, then leaned into it with a small, relieved sigh. “You’re right; I did spend months on that painting. And I thought about you being with us, being one of us, a lot. But I didn’t think so much about the, ah, actual turning.”

“You didn’t wanna think about killing me,” Lance said. “Yeah, that’s…understandable.”

“I know you’re not Henry,” Keith said. “But there are…certain parallels.”

“You’ll be fully in control of yourself, Keith,” Shiro assured him, wrapping his arm around both of their shoulders. “What happened to Henry won’t happen to Lance.”

“Keith’s right, though, there’s still a chance it won’t work,” Lance said, looking up at Shiro. “Isn’t there?”

Shiro sighed. “Technically, yes. But we will do everything in our power to make sure it does work, Lance, we can promise you that.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Lance said. “I mean, c’mon, I should’ve died at least five times already, right? What’s one more near death experience?”

“Not near-death,” Keith reminded him, leaning his head on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance let out a long breath. “Yeah. Noted.”

“I still think we should wait a little longer,” Keith said. “I know you don’t want to, but…now that you know it’s going to happen, you should have some time to…”

“Be human,” Shiro finished.

“I would’ve wanted time,” Keith said.

“Me too,” Shiro agreed.

Lance nodded. “However much time you guys need.”

“It’s your time, Lance,” Shiro said. “You decide.”

Lance didn’t look like he wanted to decide that, but he nodded again, hands curling in his lap as he considered. “How about six months?” he suggested. “Some of it spent with my family, some of it spent with my friends, and some of it spent with you guys.” He gave them a weak smile. “Although I guess I’ll be spending a lot of time with you guys in the future.”

“And your family, and your friends, once you’ve adjusted to your new form,” Shiro said. “We’re not making you choose us or them, Lance. We wouldn’t do that to you.”

“How long does, um, adjusting take, exactly?”

Shiro looked to Keith. “The first several days are pretty difficult,” Keith admitted. “But after the first week or so it gets easier to control your impulses, instincts, whatever they are. It will be a little overwhelming for a while…but not necessarily bad overwhelming. It’s just…a lot.”

“You guys will help me through it?” Lance asked.

“Of course,” Shiro murmured, kissing his head. “We’ll take care of you, Lance.”

“Forever and always,” Keith promised.

And so it was settled.

*

_Six Months Later_

Shiro rolled over to face him in their bed as the two of them woke slowly, the orange glow of late afternoon seeping in through the crack in the curtains. “Good morning,” Shiro said, smiling easily and brushing a lock of hair out of Keith’s face. It was a lost cause, his bedhead was ridiculous.

“Good morning,” Keith echoed, leaning in for a kiss. It had become a kind of joke between them over the years to say that upon waking, because they slept long through the actual morning every time. The clock on the nightstand read 3:00 – they had several hours of sunlight left. That was enough.

“Well,” Shiro murmured, looking at him steadily, “today’s the day, huh?”

“Yes,” Keith said. “Today’s the day.”

“Are you ready?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” Keith admitted, reaching out to pull Shiro closer, his sire moving at once into his arms, stroking Keith’s hair as Keith tucked his face against Shiro’s shoulder, inhaling, flooding his head with the soothing scent of petrichor and ozone.

“Hey, shhh,” Shiro murmured. “You won’t be alone – we’re both doing this. Together.”

“I just don’t want something to happen to him,” Keith whispered. “He means…so much. And I don’t know what we’d do if…if…”

“We’re not going to think about that,” Shiro said. “We’re not going to torment ourselves about things that haven’t even happened yet, and that probably never will. We’re just going to do this, and we’re going to see what happens, and we’re going to hope for the best – and that’s the best we can do. Okay?”

Keith nodded, pulling away to lift his head and look at Shiro. “Okay,” he agreed. “Okay.”

*

“Y’know, Lance, your vampire boyfriend-husbands sure do have a flair for the dramatic,” Hunk grumbled as the five of them trudged through the forest. “If I knew we were going on a five thousand mile nature hike, I would’ve brought more water. And maybe, like, wouldn’t have said okay to this, because oh my god I am _melting_.”

It was quite hot, because it was late June – around the same time they’d met Lance a year ago, Keith realized. Things had been so different then – this past year had been one of the longest in Keith’s memory, and by far the most eventful.

“It’s only five miles, not five thousand,” Shiro said primly, not a drop of sweat on him. Lance seemed to have noticed this too, but he was hardly mad about it – his energy levels were even higher than usual, and he was practically skipping beside them, excitement pouring off of him in waves.

“ _Five miles?_ ” Hunk repeated incredulously.

Pidge patted him on the back. “Wish I could complain with you, but my legs are ripped now. Pro-tip, cryptid hunts are the best exercise routine.”

“Your legs are so not ripped, pigeon,” Lance chuckled. “Pretty sure Shiro’s thigh is bigger than your entire waist.”

“Whatever. Square up, Shiro, Allura’s been teaching me karate,” Pidge retorted. “I’m already a yellow belt.”

“Good, good,” Shiro said. “You have to fight Mothman somehow, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Keith exclaimed. “Mothman never hurt anyone.”

“Didn’t he make a bridge collapse or something?” Lance said.

“He foretells omens, it’s not his fault that they happen,” Keith protested. “He’s only trying to help!”

“Chill, if I was gonna karate chop any cryptid it would be a wendigo,” Pidge said. “They’re nasty.”

“Aren’t those the monsters from _Until Dawn_?” Hunk asked nervously. “Please don’t try to fight them, they have scary teeth.”

“Oh, the irony,” Lance said dryly. Shiro grinned with a flash of fangs and Lance giggled. Keith smiled to himself. He wondered if he would ever stop loving them so much. He hoped he never would.

“Anyway, we’re here, so congratulations on surviving, Hunk,” Shiro declared, coming to a stop. The humans looked at him in confusion – the trees and undergrowth had gotten dense here over the decades, so Shiro had to push aside the leafy foliage to reveal their destination.

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed.

The waterfall was as beautiful as the very first time Shiro had taken Keith here, maybe even more so – it had widened into three separate ribbons of water down the sheer cliff, and the ferns and aspen trees flourished around the large, turquoise-blue pool at the bottom. It was too deep for Keith to wade in it anymore, and the sun shone directly upon its surface anyway. But Lance could swim, Lance loved to swim, and that was why they were here.

“You guys,” Lance said, turning towards them. “This is…”

“Hell yeah!” Pidge crowed, and jumped off the side of the cliff.

Shiro yelped and hurried to peer over the edge. “Pidge!”

There was a loud splash. “I’m alive!”

“Oh, thank god,” Shiro wheezed. Keith patted his arm.

“We’re trying to avoid any additional deaths today,” Lance called down to Pidge. “Don’t steal my thunder, pigeon, today is _my_ day.”

“Please don’t jump off the cliff, Lance,” Hunk and Keith said in unison. Hunk held out his hand to Keith for a fist bump, and looked proud when Keith reciprocated – he was learning these strange modern human customs, slowly but surely. Fist bumps were easier than Snapchat filters.

As Hunk and Lance hurried down to join Pidge in the water the safe route, Keith considered how abso-fucking-lutely surreal all of this was. Here they were, about to turn their human lover into a vampire, with the human’s two best friends not only aware of it but supportive of it, splashing around happily as if he and Shiro weren’t going to murder Lance in a couple of hours.

 _Consensually murder,_ as Hunk would say. Keith wasn’t sure there was a difference when the end result was the same.

Probably sensing Keith’s anxiety rearing its ugly head again, Shiro offered Keith his hand. Even after a century, he was still a gentleman, and Keith took it gratefully, no words exchanged between them. They walked down to the water, sticking to the shade as much as possible, and retreated to sit under the aspens and cottonwoods on the bank for a while. It was a simple but genuine joy to watch Lance and his friends play in the pool like little kids, pretending to be dolphins and seals and sharks, tackling each other and exclaiming over the waterfall as they let it wash over their heads.

“I’m glad you remembered this place,” Keith said, leaning into Shiro’s side.

“Did you?”

“Of course,” Keith murmured. “And, you know…it hasn’t changed as much as I thought it would. We haven’t changed that much, either.”

“Haven’t we?” Shiro countered, eyes soft.

“Only for the better, I think,” Keith replied.

Shiro sighed. “I think so, too.”

Keith looked back at the water. Lance had long-since ditched his shirt, and was laughing loudly as he evaded Hunk’s attempts to revenge-splash him. Lance caught Keith staring, and beamed at him, winking roguishly before diving back underwater and slipping out of Hunk’s grasp once more.

Keith’s own smile fell the longer he watched. It hurt, knowing that Lance would never look so alive and happy and bright in the sunshine ever again.

Yet…Lance _would_ remain in the prime of his youth always, his smile would never dim, his skin might lose its healthy flush but never its soft smoothness; his body would never lose its strength, his mind would never dull, and his memories would not trickle away from him like sand through an hourglass.

Yes, his friends and family would die long, long before he did – but Lance would remember them. He had pictures, and videos, and all the tangible memories Keith wished he’d had. He could visit them or speak to them whenever he wished, he could stay in contact not only with them but their descendants.

This was not the end for Lance, not at all. And Lance knew that, Keith realized. Lance treated everything in his life like an adventure, and this…this was no different.

“You alright?” Shiro asked, squeezing his shoulder.

“Yes,” Keith said, smiling at him. “I just can’t believe this is happening. You know? It feels like a fairytale, silly as that is.”

“Pretty fucked-up fairytale,” Shiro chuckled. “But I know what you mean.”

“The original Grimm stories were more fucked-up than ours,” Keith said. “Maybe less explicit, though.”

“Just a little.”

Lance waded out of the pool and jogged over to them, soaking wet, hair plastered to his head and eyes shining. “Pidge found frog eggs!”

“Unlucky frogs,” Shiro remarked.

From the other side of the pool, Hunk cried, “Pidge, leave them alone, they’re just _babies_!”

“They’re an _invasive species_ –”

“ _You’re_ an invasive species!”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s good to know that I’ll always have their bickering to look forward to, huh?”

“ _HUNK, PUT ME DOWN OR I’LL SHOVE FROG EGGS DOWN YOUR THROAT!_ ”

“ _DON’T MAKE ME EAT THE AMPHIBIAN CHILDREN, YOU MONSTER!_ ”

“Should we intervene?” Shiro asked, amused.

“Nah, better not,” Lance said, plopping down between them. “Pidge doesn’t make empty threats, and I doubt frog eggs are good for vampiric digestive tracts.”

“I don’t think frog eggs are good for anyone’s digestive tract,” Keith pointed out.

“Besides,” Lance drawled, laying down in the grass and winking up at both of them, “you two already have dinner reservations.”

Keith couldn’t help the low growl that slipped out of his mouth at that. Shiro’s eyes glinted gold. Lance’s smirk grew.

“You’re being awfully blasé about this,” Keith managed.

“Eh, I’ve had six months to worry, haven’t I?” Lance countered.

“I hope you spent them doing more than just worrying,” Shiro murmured.

Lance sat back up and nodded. “I did. I didn’t waste ‘em – I made every day count. Still kinda mad you guys wouldn’t let me go skydiving, but I guess it’s a better idea to do that when I’m an indestructible creature of the night anyway.”

“Why anyone would want to jump out of a plane for fun is beyond me,” Shiro said under his breath.

“Flying is fun,” Keith said.

Shiro huffed. “To each their own, I suppose.”

“Say, what d’you think my animal form will be?” Lance asked.

Keith pretended to consider it seriously. Then he said, “Probably a parrot, because you’re so noisy.”

“Oh, fuck off, bat boy,” Lance snorted. “Shiro?”

“I was going to say a rooster,” Shiro said, smile tugging at his lips, “because you’re so cocky.”

“I hate you,” Lance cackled. “That was so bad, you should be ashamed.”

“I am,” Shiro said, pretending to hang his head, “so very full of shame. As you can see.”

“Okay, but seriously,” Lance said, sobering, “what would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted. “Something quick and clever and beautiful.”

“Hmph,” Lance said, face pink. “That’s still not an animal.”

“It’s impossible to know until you shift for the first time,” Shiro said gently. “We’ll just to have to wait and see. Keith thought he might shift into a raven for the longest time...”

“But instead I got a bat,” Keith sighed. “So, you never know.”

“Bats are cool,” Lance told him earnestly.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed after a beat. “Yeah, they are.”

Hunk and Pidge had settled the frog egg argument; Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to know how. The sun was low in the sky, blue streaked with dusky orange and pink – it was almost seven, according to Lance’s phone. The three of them looked at the numbers and then at each other. “So,” Lance said, some of his previous bravado gone, “should we get this show on the road?”

“If you’re ready,” Keith and Shiro said in quiet unison.

Lance exhaled, and nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Hunk and Pidge had noticed their serious little huddle and splashed their way over, not laughing anymore. “Is it time already?” Hunk asked, his voice wobbling a little.

“It’s time,” Lance replied. “Let’s, uh…let’s head back together, ‘kay? We can walk you and Hunk to your house, Pidge. Right?” He turned to Keith and Shiro.

“Whatever you want,” Shiro said. “Keith and I can wait at the house while you drop them off in Rosewood, if you’d like some…some time alone.”

Lance nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I…that’d be nice. Thanks.”

They walked back up the path and through the darkening woods in relative silence. It was strange – Keith had expected this final procession to feel like a funeral, but it didn’t. Funerals had a heavy, uncomfortable air about them, too much sadness in one place, choking the atmosphere.

But there was only a kind of resigned, resolved acceptance among the five of them. There was sadness, but it was light, not grief, not mourning, just a certain soft nostalgia. Keith could see it in Lance’s eyes as he looked at the sun through the trees, blinding them all with its dying golden light before sinking below the horizon entirely. It was brilliant, beautiful, and seemingly final…but it would rise again. So too would Lance.

That was the plan, anyway.

Keith and Shiro parted ways with the humans at their home, but not before Hunk pulled Keith aside and said, “Listen to me, okay? Whatever happens – _whatever_ happens tonight, Keith, you call us ASAP, got it? Even if it…if it doesn’t work – even if it does work – call us. I know we can’t see him for a while afterwards, but it’s gonna kill us if we don’t know.”

“We wouldn’t keep you in the dark about this,” Keith said. “We’ll call you, Hunk, I promise.” He swallowed. “No matter what happens.”

Hunk seemed satisfied with that, but his eyes were shiny. Keith hoped he didn’t cry. “You guys better take care of him,” he said, clasping Keith’s shoulder.

“We will,” Keith said. “Go say goodbye to him. He needs you and Pidge now, too.”

Hunk nodded, and went to join Pidge and Lance. Lance cast one last look back at the house, and then continued on through the trees with his friends, their hands all linked, their heads all bowed close together.

Keith and Shiro stood together on the porch.

“Are we making the right choice, Takashi?” Keith asked when they had become mere silhouettes in the distance, the sound of their footsteps fading.

“Does it feel like the right choice?” Shiro said, his gaze distant.

Keith thought about turning Lance. He thought about being a vampire, being a sire, being a family, being in love, being alive. He thought about soft lips and soft sheets and sharp teeth and sweet blood; he thought about cold stone cells and fever-hot skin and saltwater tears; he thought about blue eyes and golden eyes and violet eyes; he thought about searing magic and shattered crystals and scars.

He thought about Shiro, he thought about Lance, and he thought about eternity.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It does.”

“Then it is,” Shiro said.

*

Lance returned to them when the sky was fully dark with reddened eyes, a wet face, and a tired smile.

“Hi,” he said as he stood on the doorstep.

“Hi,” Keith said back, and Shiro let him in.

They’d already discussed the details of what happened next, so without a word Lance followed them down to the cellar. Shiro and Keith had done their best to make it cozier – they’d dragged the guest bedroom mattress to the middle of the room, along with a duvet and some pillows. When Lance saw the set-up, Keith had expected he might laugh, but instead he froze, lower lip trembling slightly.

“I love you guys,” he said, voice shaking. “I love you guys so, so much.”

“We love you, too,” Shiro murmured, the two of them guiding him over to the mattress where he sank down slowly, and they knelt beside him. Lance lifted the silver chain from around his neck as he lay down, the crystal and charms clinking when he placed them carefully on the floor.

“You deserve to be comfortable,” Keith told him, brushing his fingers over Lance’s cheek, brushing the remnants of tears away. Lance caught his hand, and kissed his knuckles. When he looked up at them, there was nothing but trust and adoration in his eyes. He wasn’t thralled. He was just in love. And Keith was pretty sure he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“It’ll be like falling asleep, just like we talked about,” Shiro murmured, holding the back of Lance’s head in his palm easily, breath tickling across his skin and making Lance shiver. “We’ll be right here with you.”

Lance closed his eyes. “You have everything ready for…for after?”

“Yes,” Keith said. “Yes, everything. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Lance said. “I won’t. I’m not.”

“Good,” Shiro whispered. “Keith?”

Keith nodded, and put his hand over Shiro’s, both of them supporting Lance’s head to lift his neck up towards their lips. “Lance?” Keith said.

“Yes,” Lance said, and they bit.

Lance jolted, and then relaxed, head falling back as they bit into both carotid arteries, one on each side. _Veins to spare them, arteries for the kill,_ Shiro had once said. They’d never taken blood from Lance’s arteries before. It was, Keith thought dazedly, like drinking pure sunshine. He could never find the right words to describe Lance’s blood, and doubted he ever would, but he tasted its power on his tongue, curling hotly in his belly, could feel Lance’s magic prickling to life as Keith and Shiro fed.

Arteries made a mess – Keith could feel the blood spurting, not flowing, and knew that as soon as he pulled away it would splatter across his face. Lance was losing blood at a much faster rate than usual – they’d planned that, too. Lance made a faint sound, his body weakening in their arms, lashes fluttering.

It had only been a few minutes. Hadn’t it? Keith reached out and stroked Lance’s arm soothingly and Lance’s eyes opened; dazed, glowing blue, sliding over to look at him. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Keith rubbed his thumb over Lance’s wrist and palm, and Lance’s fingers curled around his own.

Lance’s glowing eyes were flickering, and his blood seemed hotter, almost burning, but Keith and Shiro kept drinking. Keith was lost in the pleasure of it, power singing through him, _Lance’s_ power, and Lance gripped his fingers hard one last time, gasping wordlessly, before his grip slackened and so did his body, eyes closing again. He was unconscious, pulse leaping against Keith’s tongue, slowing, fading.

Keith had thought that Lance’s death might be a spectacle, an explosion of bright, blue magic crackling around them, setting his veins aflame as it had done once before…but in the end, his death was a quiet, easy thing. So quiet and easy that Keith almost missed it – one moment Lance’s heart was beating, and the next, there was silence. When he heard it, or rather didn’t hear it, he startled away without quite meaning to, Lance’s neck still bleeding heavily. _He’s dead,_ Keith thought, almost shocked.

 _Keep feeding,_ Shiro replied firmly, fangs still buried in Lance’s neck, blood spilling out down his chin. _Until he’s drained fully, or it won’t work._

_We killed him._

_Keith,_ Shiro said. _He still needs us._

Lance’s skin was still warm when Keith nosed back under his jaw and continued to drink, but his blood had lost something; _Lance_ had lost something, a spark, a soul, Keith didn’t know. Lance’s hand was limp when he reached down to hold it, half-curled fingers feeling fake, like a doll’s. His brown skin had a grayish hue to it, and his mouth was open, a thin line of blood trickling sluggishly from the corner.

Eventually, the blood flow tapered, slowed, and finally stopped. Shiro guided Lance’s unmoving head down to lay upon the pillows, his profile eerily still. Shiro looked at Keith and Keith saw the pain he felt at seeing Lance like this, at seeing Lance dead, reflected in Shiro’s face.

But Shiro had never been one to let his pain interfere with what had to be done, and he immediately reached for the small glass they’d set aside and slashed his own wrist with a fang, letting his blood fill the glass halfway, and then handing it over to Keith, who did the same. They watched the blood mix and swirl, and then Shiro nodded to Keith and Keith guided the glass to Lance’s lips, and poured.

When the glass was empty, some of it had dribbled out onto Lance’s chin, black like oil, and the two of them watched it trace a path down his jaw and collarbones.

“It takes a little while,” Shiro said, both of them waiting, tense and expectant. “It did with you, anyway.”

“How long?” Keith whispered, wiping a hand over his mouth. Fuck, there was blood everywhere. He could barely stand to look at it. At him. _He’s not Henry,_ he tried to tell himself, but it wasn’t quite working.

“Just long enough for a bit of suspense,” Shiro sighed. “Any…any second now.”

But the seconds ticked agonizingly by, and there was nothing. Keith leaned down, lifted one of Lance’s eyelids, and immediately recoiled. His eyes looked blank, already glazed-over, bright blue turned dull. Panic and a horrifying feeling of déjà vu rose within him and he scrambled away, shaking his head. “Shiro,” he said, “Shiro, I don’t think –”

Lance’s eyes flew open and he let out a ragged cry that split through the air like a knife. Keith and Shiro were at his side at once, and Lance just kept screaming, seemingly unable to hear them as they tried to calm him down. His eyes were wide, and he scrabbled at Shiro and Keith with half-formed claws, snarling and spitting and not seeming to know whether to push them away or pull them closer.

His frantic, hurt sounds made Keith’s chest ache, and without thinking he curled against Lance’s side to nuzzle against his neck, kissing the turning mark he’d left and making Lance sob. Shiro made a low sound of approval and did the same, and Lance’s cries began to decrease in volume as they drowned him in their scents and made soft, soothing sounds deep in their throats. Lance’s chest was heaving; his whole body spasmed like a ship tossed in a storm, and then his mouth fell open and white fangs pierced through his gums.

“Lance,” Keith breathed, running his claws through Lance’s short, sweaty hair, and Lance turned dazedly into the touch, whining in a decidedly inhuman way. His ears had lengthened to familiar points, and flicked back when Keith’s hand brushed them. The whine turned to a growl, his eyes narrowing, and then flashing gold. _Hungry._

Shiro rose to get the blood they’d set aside and Lance made a distressed, high-pitched noise, trying to sit up and failing, calling to his sire, and then seemed profoundly confused when Keith replied, softer and deeper, a sound Shiro had made many times before. Lance stared up at him, and called again, this time to Keith, quieter, uncertain. “Yes,” Keith murmured, leaning close, “yes, both of us are yours, Lance.”

Shiro returned with the bag of blood and Lance shot up, yellow eyes flaring brighter. He waited for no invitation before biting into the plastic ravenously…and then tore away from it with a displeased snarl, eyes narrowing. Elk blood splashed all over the floor and Shiro growled in warning, and _Lance growled back._ Keith hissed at his audacity, and grabbed Lance’s arm. “Drink it,” he insisted, pushing Lance towards the bag again.

But Lance whirled on him, teeth bared, and Keith stumbled away – his eyes were violet, cold and empty of any sort of recognition, and when Lance lunged and pinned Keith to the mattress, for once Lance was stronger than him. Keith snarled and shoved at him but Lance didn’t give an inch, strings of saliva dripping from his mouth, snapping at Keith’s neck like a rabid dog.

“Lance!” Keith shouted, but Lance didn’t respond, and with a white-hot burst of pain his fangs ripped into Keith’s neck before Shiro managed to drag Lance off of him with a furious roar. Lance spat out Keith’s blood, trembling violently all over, eyes still purple, still starving. Keith pressed a hand to the ugly wound as it began to heal and sat up with a wince, glaring at Lance, who was still writhing where Shiro had him up against the wall, a hand curled tight around his neck.

“Get more blood,” Shiro gritted out as Lance tried to bite at him and break free. “He has to drink it, or he could still die. Again.”

Keith snatched the remaining blood in the bag and grabbed two more from the fridge, hurrying over with them. Lance bared his teeth again when Keith lifted the bag to his mouth, a clear refusal, but Keith wasn’t having it. “For fuck’s sake, _drink it_ , Lance,” Keith growled. “We didn’t come this far just for you to waste away because you want human blood, you bastard!”

Lance twisted, frustrated, eyes sparking brighter…and then Keith felt his magic. But it wasn’t _Lance’s_ magic anymore – it felt wrong, too cold and too harsh, and Shiro released Lance at once, backing away. Lance stalked towards them with intent, the magic twisting in the air, tugging at them and their energy, making Keith’s head spin unpleasantly, his heart pounding uncontrollably. Shiro gasped, fear spiking in his scent, and Keith snarled at Lance, _stop, stop, stop!_

Lance didn’t stop. Shiro’s back hit the opposite wall and Lance kept advancing, and _now_ his magic was crackling, violet light appearing in fissures just under his skin. Keith could only watch with horror – what had they done? _What had they done to Lance?_

Lance lunged for Shiro and Keith moved between them on pure instinct, crying out with genuine terror, fully expecting fangs in his throat again…but instead Lance faltered, lips parting, blinking with his violet eyes at Keith shielding Shiro from him, arms outstretched and shaking. “Don’t,” Keith whispered, shaking his head. “Lance, _please_ , don’t.”

Lance took another step forward and Keith tensed…but Lance just let out a little whimper, lowering his head and hunching his shoulders. After a moment, Shiro touched Keith’s shoulder and stepped out from behind him, hesitantly reaching out. “Lance,” Shiro said, and Lance whimpered again, tiny and apologetic and scared, the terrifying tendrils of his magic retreating. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay, you just need to listen to us, and drink what we give you, okay?”

“Okay,” Lance croaked, and Keith’s knees went weak with relief at the sound of his voice. He was still in there. Keith picked up the bag of blood and this time when they guided Lance back down to the mattress he drank instead of spitting it out, his brow creasing in discontent that quickly smoothed over as he continued. The flush was returning to his skin and by the third bag the violet was gone from his eyes – they were their usual blue when he opened them and looked at Shiro and Keith hazily.

“Better?” Keith asked, wary.

Lance nodded, and slumped forward, and before Keith could right him Lance was kissing him, bloody and sloppy and desperate, hands fisting into the front of Keith’s shirt. Keith made a garbled sound of surprise into his mouth and Lance pressed closer, breathing shallow and quick against Keith’s cheek when he broke the kiss. “Sorry,” he gasped, “sorry, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you, never again…”

Keith shook his head, pulling Lance to his chest. “I know, I know, it’s alright,” he murmured. Lance shivered and mouthed at his jaw. “We have to get you cleaned up, Lance,” Keith said, trying to hoist Lance up to his feet. Lance resisted the movement, sucking a bruise into Keith’s skin instead.

“Nooo,” Lance whined. “Want you, right here, nowww…”

Shiro snorted and grabbed Lance’s waist, hauling him up. “We’re cleaning you off and you’re getting some rest first, c’mon.”

“’m not tired,” Lance protested, and let out a yelp when Shiro tossed Lance over his shoulder. “Shirooo...so mean…”

“Hmph, I’ll show you mean,” Shiro retorted, and Lance gave a full-body wriggle of delight, claws raking through Shiro’s hair and over the nape of his neck as Shiro walked upstairs with him. His head lolled against Shiro’s back and he looked at Keith lazily, eyes half-lidded, pupils dilated hugely.

They made it into the shower, but Lance made it exceedingly difficult for them to undress him – he kept trying to kiss and grope at whoever was closest, until Shiro growled in irritation and pinned Lance’s wrists to the tile wall while Keith half-shredded his clothes off. As soon as Shiro released him to turn the shower on, Lance pounced on Keith, kissing him desperately and scratching at his back and sides, trying to hook a leg around Keith’s waist. Keith laughed, pushing him back and shaking his head.

“Keeeith,” Lance pleaded, squirming away when Shiro tried to wipe him off with a washcloth.

“Behave,” Shiro warned, crowding Lance away from Keith, eyes narrowed and washcloth raised threateningly.

Lance’s eyes, yellow again, flicked up to him as a slow, sly grin spread across his face. “Make me.”

Shiro dropped the washcloth.

Lance let out a moan that echoed obscenely off the tiles when Shiro slid his hands under Lance’s bare thighs and lifted him up, Lance’s legs curling around his hips as Shiro kissed him hard under the shower spray. Keith’s breath caught as he watched them, watched Lance grind desperately against Shiro’s bulging, soaked-through jeans, hissing at the cold scrape of the zipper and fumbling to get it open. Shiro growled and pinned Lance’s wrists again and this time he didn’t resist, just arched and whined until Shiro unzipped his jeans, shoved down his underwear, and rubbed his thick cock against Lance’s.

Keith made the executive decision to undress himself and then yank Shiro’s shirt up and over his head, fitting himself against the muscular curve of Shiro’s back and looking at Lance over his shoulder. Lance stared back, mouth hanging open and fangs on display, scratching up the tile wall and Shiro’s chest as Shiro’s fingers pushed into him.

“You’re ours now,” Keith purred, dragging a claw down Shiro’s arm and around Lance’s nipple, teasing, never quite touching. Lance shuddered, not breaking eye contact. “Ours, Lance, forever – and you love it, don’t you? You love that we can make you bend without breaking; you love that we can ruin you so beautifully that you just beg for more. Precious little slut.”

Lance whimpered wordlessly, _yes, yes, yes._ Shiro growled and kissed him again, grabbing Lance’s hips to force him down onto Shiro’s fingers. Lance’s claws drew blood, raking over his back.

Keith was rutting lazily against Shiro’s ass, his cock achingly hard just from watching Shiro finger Lance open and kiss him senseless, water and blood cascading down their bodies. Shiro didn’t stop kissing Lance but he shifted, widening the stance of his thighs purposefully, and Keith groaned, teeth scraping over his shoulder as his cock pushed at the tight space between Shiro’s legs, the slick head nudging again and again at Shiro’s heavy balls. It smeared over his hole and Shiro pushed back into it, then forwards into Lance, and Lance threw back his head and keened, bouncing hard on Shiro’s cock when Shiro hefted him up effortlessly.

“Yes,” Keith hissed, claws curling into Shiro’s hip. “Fuck him, Shiro, fuck him hard – look, he wants it, he’s opening so easy for you, making such pretty sounds for us –”

Shiro grunted in all-too-eager assent and snapped his hips forward; Lance’s back banging against the wall. Shiro took a step back and Keith got the message at once, moving between Lance and the wall to save his spine from anymore bruising, leaving kisses and love nips there instead, smoothing his palms over the curve of Lance’s ass and letting his fingers stroke at where Shiro’s cock breached him. Lance squirmed and gasped, head falling back onto Keith’s shoulder as Keith played with his rim.

“You’re thinking of when we both fucked you, aren’t you,” Keith whispered into his ear, and Lance nodded jerkily, another cry wrenched from his throat as Shiro thrust deeper. “You want that again, don’t you?”

“P-please, please,” Lance begged. “Want you both to claim me, want everyone to know I’m yours, want you to take care of me, _ah!_ ”

“We’ll take care of you, alright,” Shiro rumbled; a wicked promise. He dragged his tongue across Lance’s chest, licking and sucking mercilessly at his nipples as Lance bucked wildly and moaned, his cock red and sloppy with precum when Keith wrapped a hand around it.

It only took three strokes before Lance’s spine bowed and he came with a strangled sob, slumping backwards against Keith as Shiro continued to fuck him and lap at his reddened nipples, slow and worshipful. Lance was trembling, oversensitized and loving every second of it, his cock twitching in Keith’s cum-covered hand as he kept stroking.

Lance might as well get acquainted with vampiric stamina as soon as possible, right?

Shiro seemed to agree, because he nipped Lance’s ear and whispered, “Let us take you to bed,” and Lance whined pleadingly, gasping and clutching at Shiro when the older vampire carried him away from the wall and out of the shower, keeping Lance impaled on his cock all the while. Keith turned the shower off and followed them out of the bathroom and upstairs – it was slow progress because Lance was apparently losing his mind about Shiro’s ability to ascend the stairs while fucking him.

To be fair, it was a rather incredible ability.

But Keith was impatient, and by the time they reached their bedroom he was so hard he was nearly limping, and Shiro wasted no time in slamming Lance down onto the bed, shoving his legs up against his chest and angling his cock deeper, harder, _better_ , until Lance was moaning and writhing under him. It didn’t take long before Shiro was growling and coming inside him, body braced over Lance in all its raw, powerful glory, muscles thrown into high definition.

Keith was ready when Shiro briefly relaxed and pulled out – ready to take his place, flipping Lance easily onto his stomach, forcing him up onto his hands and knees, and letting his cock sink fully into Lance with a wet sound, Shiro’s cum slick and dripping out onto Lance’s balls. Lance swore and begged at the top of his lungs, shoving back greedily into every punishing thrust Keith gave him, and he was fully hard again when Keith sat back on his heels and pulled Lance up into his lap, his chest flush to Lance’s arching back and his balls flush to Lance’s tight ass. Lance’s long legs were splayed on either side of his own, toes curling and thighs flexing as he rocked down onto Keith’s cock needily, jerking himself off with a shaky hand.

Shiro was at Keith’s back, running his fingers through Keith’s hair and over his neck in the way he knew Keith loved, his fingers pressing firm into the small of Keith’s back before squeezing his ass, a promise for later.

“Mine,” Shiro crooned, low in Keith’s ear and close enough for Lance to hear. Both of them moaned, Lance’s hand stuttering on his cock, and then Shiro was in front of them, in front of Lance, lowering his body to take Lance’s swollen cock into his mouth. Lance made an indescribable sound, tightening around Keith and clawing at the sheets as Shiro hollowed his cheeks and didn’t stop until his lips met Lance’s pubic bone. Lance whimpered, spreading his legs wider, pushing wantonly forward into Shiro’s throat, and it was by far one of the hottest things Keith had ever seen, and _Keith had seen some things._

Keith barely managed to thrust once, twice more before coming, stuffing Lance full, full of his sires, his mates; and when Keith pulled out, Lance flopped onto the bed helplessly…and Shiro swung Lance’s limp legs up and over his shoulders and buried his face between Lance’s legs where he was messy with their cum.

Keith’s vision spotted, he could only imagine how it felt for Lance, who _shouted_ , seized up, and came, Shiro’s tongue and hand working him through it until he was well and utterly spent.

They were quiet, afterwards. Lance was bleary-eyed and exhausted, but they’d given him what he needed – a claiming, but more than that a bonding; a bond of three that Keith imagined he could feel in the magic around them. It was a magic only Lance could see but one that Keith believed wholeheartedly was there.

He could feel it when Lance curled close to them with a sound of simple, soft joy; he could feel it when Shiro fought the urge to clean them all up and snuggled up instead, his breathing even, relaxed, _safe_. He could feel it when his two mates drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep; and he could feel it even when he slipped silently away from them, getting dressed slowly and heading downstairs to call Hunk and tell him the good news.

When the call ended, Keith let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was over.

Lance’s turning felt like the natural culmination of the past year; the final chapter in the story they’d unknowingly begun together that night in June, a night much like this one. But he knew with certainty that vampires’ stories never ended, not really. They were creatures not only of the night but of the past, they were creatures that defied the ravages of time and adapted to the world of the future.

Keith had never expected a happy ending with Shiro and Lance. Their kind of stories weren’t supposed to be happy.

But as he looked out the window at the faintly lightening horizon, his heart warm and full, Keith knew he had never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> i got so carried away with this smut but uhhh i have a lot of emotions and so does keith
> 
> I'd love to write an essay to y'all about how grateful I am for all your support over the course of this (very long) story. But I'm wiped! I always feel a little sad and drained after finishing fics and this one has me feelin' like that x1000. So instead I will just say: thank you all so much, your comments and your kind words made so many of my days and weeks brighter and it makes me unbelievably happy to know that this fic provided the same joy for many of you. It's like a circle of happy. Good shit, my dudes. Keep it up.
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [@saltyshiro](http://saltyshiro.tumblr.com/) where i am very active and where you will find ALL the updates about any future writing shenanigans. that being said, I will be participating in Voltron NSFW Week, get pumped for those 8 oneshots from Aug 27-Sept 3. 
> 
> in the meantime, i'm goin on a much-needed 2 week vacation :'D bye for now, much love, & DON'T LET THE VAMPIRES BITE~ (or do, if you're into that and it's consensual, you do you & also hook me up.)


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